


Jason Funderberker

by Colorfullyminded



Category: Gravity Falls, Over the Garden Wall
Genre: M/M, This mainly pg, and cursing, and minor self harm, awkward babies being awkward, but nothing major, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-24 21:34:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3785044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colorfullyminded/pseuds/Colorfullyminded
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dipper thinks Wirt likes Jason Funderberker. Wirt thinks Dipper likes Jason Funderberker. Mabel thinks her brother’s acting ridiculous, and Gregory may be wise beyond his years. Also, no one likes Jason Funderberker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jason Funderberker

_Jason Funderberker_

 

Wirt’s eyes narrowed, his head twisted to the side as he watched the two boys silently chatting away when they should have been paying attention in class. Not that he could speak for himself. His fingers nimbly pressed the keys as he blew random noises into his bassoon, not really paying attention to his music sheet, or following along with the rest of the class. He was too distracted.

 

_Jason Funderberker_

 

Ever since sophomore year, he had decided to try his hand at another instrument. He was already well versed at clarinet, and hey, he didn’t do too bad when he was performing for that ferry of frogs. So he decided he’d try mastering the bassoon. Besides, the more instruments you knew, the more attractive you were...that was how it worked, right?

 

But right now, he wasn’t focused on practicing. He played as quietly as he could, hoping the teacher wouldn’t notice the lack of bassoon playing. Not that it was a big part of the song.

 

He glanced over at his teacher just to make sure her eyes weren’t lasered in on him. Her focus was on the clarinet players instead. He was once more thankful he decided to go with a different instrument this year. He turned his glare back on the two boys in the far back. Mainly, the one boy who had an arm over his friend’s shoulder like they were best buds.

 

_Jason Funderberker._

 

_“I feel a burning desire,_

_A primal urge from ancestors past,_

_festering deep in the sinews of bone,_

_humming ravenously for blood._

 

_My talons are sharpened to their wits,_

_My eyes locked on,_

_The moon’s reflective orb fades to a crimson wine,_

_The prey has been spotted among the sod._

 

_I can hear the pounding of my heart,_

_and every nerve ending is seizing._

_Stay ignorant, young shrew,_

_And fall into a peaceful comatosis,_

_under the light of the Ursa Major…_

 

“...Because I’m going to tear you to shreds”

 

“Did you say something Wirt?” Sara whispered, snapping him out of his murderous recitation. He shook his head, willing away the thoughts to plaster on a waxy smile.

 

“Nothing...just, thinking aloud. It’s nothing,” he assured her. She gave him a look like she didn’t believe him, but before she could ask, the teacher snapped from the other side of the room.

 

“Sara, I don’t hear you on that Oboe young lady. I need all my oboists playing in this piece. Please stay focused.” Soft snickering followed, and Sara looked down at her shoes in embarrassment. Wirt felt a little bad for getting her in trouble, but she was the one who engaged him first, so it wasn’t really his fault. He gave her a soft nudge with his elbow and an apologetic brow though, hoping to make amends still. She glanced up at him and he could see her smiling from behind her oboe. She shot him a wink to let him know there were no hard feelings, before facing forward again.

 

With the teacher’s eye on them now, Wirt attempted to practice, his eyes scanning the sheet music. He listened to see where everyone else was, and managed to catch up so the teacher wouldn’t notice that he hadn’t been rehearsing. Even as he played though, he found his eyes shifting. He tried refocusing back on the sheet music, but seconds later, his vision was shifting to the left and upwards again. Once more, he tried to keep his eyes glued to the page, but somewhere in the back of his head he could hear soft muttering and laughter nagging in his ear, like an annoying buzz. Laughter that sounded very much like his friend. And if that buzzing wasn’t in that nasally voice. His eyes flickered quickly to the back row--

 

\--where he found Jason Funderberker whispering something into Dipper Pine’s ear, the latter mentioned blushing softly with a hand clasped over his mouth like he had been told a dirty joke...or something much worse.

 

**“BWRRRRRRPPPPT”**

 

“Wirt!!!” The teacher screeched, clutching her heart, her face draining of all color. The whole class stopped playing, eyes widening as they turned to the source of the sound, finding a bright red Wirt, knees trembling, his mouth still on the mouthpiece.

 

“O...Oops.” Was all he could manage to get out.

 

The class erupted into blistering laughter, with the exception of Sara, the teacher, and Dipper, and no matter how much the teacher banged on her podium, nothing could quell the roaring of a bunch of immature teenagers. The last 10 minutes of class was spent in laughter, and the teacher shooting daggers into Wirt, who slowly sunk back into his chair, and was quickly sinking to the floor. He could feel the many eyes of the classroom on him, eyeing him like hungry buzzards. He wanted to melt into the cracks in the stage.

 

From behind him, he could hear that nasally buzz.

 

“Quite the blunder there Wirt. But it sure livened up the room, wouldn’t you agree Dipper?”

 

“Heh heh...y-yeah. Sure did Jason.”

 

_FUCKING JASON FUNDERBERKER_

 

\--

 

“So in class today, we had to make a mask--”

 

“Uh hun?”

 

“And so I made an elephant mask--”

 

“Un hun?”

 

“And Sally was like, ‘You can’t color an elephant green’--”

 

“Is that so?”

 

“And I was like ‘yes you can. If he’s an elephant with the flu’--”

 

“woww….”

 

“And she was like ‘Elephants can’t get the flu’--”

 

“Really?”

 

“And I was like ‘Yeah they can’--”

 

“Hmmm…”

 

“Wirt? Are you listening to me?”

 

Wirt blinked, his brooding cut short. He looked down at his little brother who was pouting up at him, hands on his pudgey hips. Wirt had the decency to look guilty, “Oh, I’m sorry Greg. I was distracted. Please, continue with your story.” Wirt said, urging the boy to go on. But Greg was a lot more perspective than Wirt would have liked. And his story could wait til later.

 

“Are you okay Wirt? You look sad. Did you have a bad day again?” Greg asked softly, reaching into his pants for his pet frog, who also happened to be named after Wirt’s mortal enemy. Gregory hugged Funderburker closer to his chest, “You can confide in us. We won’t tell anyone, will we Jason Funderburker?” Greg said, beaming down at the tiny amphibian.

 

“Riibitt!” Funderburker croaked.

 

 _Ugh. Jason Funderberker_. Just his name left a bad taste in his mouth. He wondered why he had thought it was a good idea to put that name into Gregory’s head. Of course, at the time his brother was close to dying and Wirt would have said anything to keep Greg talking, keep him awake. But now that his brother was safe, he found himself regretting naming the frog. He scowled at the amphibian, though of course it was not the frog’s fault for his irritation.

 

“Why are you staring at Jason Funderburker like that? You’re not mad at him are you?” Greg pulled the frog closer, shielding him from the brute of Wirt’s gaze. “Jason Funderburker didn’t do anything wrong. He was with me all day!” Greg shouted defensively, drawing the attention of the rest of the passengers on the bus. They turned to the two brothers; some of them looking in intrigue, others glaring menacingly at having been bothered, and Wirt, not needing any more mortifying memories, pressed his finger to his lips.

 

“Shush Greg!”

 

“No you shush!”

 

“Greg!”

 

“Shhhhh!”

 

“I’m not mad at Jason Funderburker. I promise. Just please, keep your voice down. This is a public bus and people don’t like being disturbed on their ride home by fussy children.”

 

Greg pouted, crossing his arms, “You’re a fussy child,” he huffed, turning his back to Wirt.

 

Wirt sighed, “Yeah, I suppose I am too.” Looking over at Greg, his expression softened, and he reached an arm over, pulling Greg into his side. He laid his hand on Greg’s head, gently rustling his hair as a sign of amends. Greg tried to stay upset, but his pout faltered after a second, and eventually caved into that warm smile again. He snuggled into Wirt’s side, Jason Funderburker jumping into Greg’s lap to nap for the rest of the way home.

 

“So...why are you upset?” Greg asked again, tilting his head up to give Wirt his attention. Wirt sighed again.

 

“It wasn’t your Jason Funderburker--”

 

“Ours” Greg corrected.

 

“Right, ours,” Wirt repeated, “It wasn’t our Jason Funderburker that I’m upset with. It’s my Jason Funderberker...the one in my class.”

 

“The one who liked Sara?”

 

Wirt scowled again, remembering that day. “Yeah...the one who liked Sara.”

 

“You liked Sara too, didn’t you Wirt?” Greg asked.

 

Wirt nodded, petting Greg’s hair, “Yeah, I liked her too Greg,” he answered patiently. He knew Greg would ask questions in between before he could get to his point. A long time ago he might have gotten frustrated and tried quieting him, which would have failed and sent him into a more irate state. But now he answered everything that Greg asked with a patient mind.

 

“Do you still like Sara?” Greg asked, studying Wirt’s expression for any hints that he did.

 

The question made Wirt stop and reminisce. How the two had gotten closer after the events of Halloween. The two spent more time together at school, sitting with each other at lunch, practicing their music at each other’s house. Wirt began showing her his tapes, and the two would sit in his room, nestled closely, sharing one earphone, listening to his music. Even though they hadn’t said it, they both figured they were dating after some time. So when they were eating lunch, they would reach under the table and hold hands. When they walked to their class, Wirt would offer to carry Sara’s band equipment, and sometimes they would walk the opposite direction of their own class, to make sure the other got to theirs on time.

 

It seemed so _perfect. Then they kissed._

 

And suddenly, everything just fell apart. It wasn’t like they started fighting. It was just when they kissed, they felt...nothing.

 

Wirt remembers pulling away from her, looking into her eyes, and seeing the same expression in them that was bubbling in his stomach. That feeling of disappointment. That feeling of expecting something wonderful to happen and just meeting an empty feeling.

 

_“Y...You didn’t feel it either...did you?” she asked timidly, running her hands through her hair nervously._

 

_“No….no...I didn’t feel it either,” he admitted after a long while, not wanting it to be true. But the fact was he didn’t feel that spark when they kissed._

 

_“There’s...supposed to be something there right? I’m mean...is it just me?” Sara asked, looking errant._

 

_Wirt eased her fears, shaking his head, “No, it’s not just you. There’s...there’s suppose to be something...and yet, there’s nothing there.”_

 

_“So then...what does that mean?” Sara asked, their eyes meeting at the same time, both knowing exactly what it meant._

 

And so the two had broken up. And though it was awkward at first, neither being able to look the other in the eyes when they passed in the hall, they eventually found solid ground again. They started talking, and though Wirt couldn’t remember what had caused it, they were able to reconnect again. Since then, they had become better friends than before. And each time he looked at her, he wondered if he would ever get the spark back in his eyes when he first saw her, but…

 

“No, Greg, not anymore.”

 

“Oh...I’m sorry Wirt,” Greg sounded sad, probably because he thought Wirt would be sad too.

 

“It’s alright Greg. Me and Sara are better as friends anyway.”

 

“How come you don’t like her anymore?” Greg asked carefully, hoping his brother wouldn’t get upset that he was prying. But Wirt showed no signs of anger or annoyance. He remained with a pensive expression.

 

“I just...I realized she wasn’t the one. She wasn’t the one who I wanted. At least not that way.” He stared out the window, the bus pulling up into their neighborhood. “This is our stop Greg, come on.” Taking Greg’s tiny hand in his, he lead the boy towards the front, letting Greg go down first, before following behind. When the bus had pulled away from the station, he reached for Greg’s hand again and they began to walk the rest of the way to their house.

 

For awhile, they walked in silence, enjoying the setting sun, and listening to the sounds of their neighborhood: Mrs. Carter’s dachshund running across the front of her yard, barking threateningly at the boy’s, who ignored her in turn; the sprinklers overflowing on Mr. Jasper’s lawn, and no matter how many times they told him it was too much, the man would huff, wave a wrinkly arm in the air and tell them they didn’t know what was good for his lawn. Greg waved to Mrs. Daniel’s who was as usually, tending to her garden.

 

Finally, after what felt like forever, Greg asked the thing Wirt had been waiting for, but he hadn’t expected it be worded the way it was, “Do you want Dipper to be the one?”

 

Wirt halted, and because he was holding Greg’s hand, Greg was forced to stop, stumbling slightly when he had tried moving forward. He turned to his brother worriedly, Wirt’s face unreadable, his eyes wide. He seemed to have completely frozen. “Wirt…?” Gregory poked him in the stomach, but Wirt remained stoic. Greg shoved him this time, not hard enough to make the boy falter, but enough to snap him out of his trance-like state.

 

“Wha? What?” He looked down, “Oh, um...I don’t know Greg...can we...can we talk about this some other time? I’m kind of tired.” It wasn’t a complete lie; he was done with today. But he felt bad for avoiding Greg’s question, when he promised himself that he would always answer Greg’s question unless it was absolutely necessary that he didn’t. Whatever he felt for Dipper wasn’t something that he absolutely needed to hide from Greg. That being said, he didn’t have the heart to even figure out what the boy meant to him, let alone discuss it with his little brother, who didn’t know the ways of society and might get confused. If Greg told his dad, or their mom, Wirt feared the conversation that would transpire from it. He didn’t want to discuss it, and honestly, even though it was weighing in his mind now, the question, ‘what does Dipper Pines mean to me’, he pushed it into the far corners of his mind where he wouldn’t have to bother with it for awhile, maybe even forever if they never talked about it again.

 

“I’m sorry Wirt, I didn’t mean to upset you,” Greg apologized, kicking a loose pebble ruefully.

 

“Aww hey Greg, it’s alright. I’m not upset. I’m just tired. We could talk about it some other time,” Inside though, he hoped Greg would forget about the conversation altogether. “Hey, how about I make dinner tonight. How’s that sound? I’ll make you anything you want? Okay Greg?”

 

Greg sniffled, peering up at Wirt, still looking regretful. “Anything?” he asked cautiously.

 

Wirt smiled, “Yeah buddy. Anything you want.”

 

“Can we have potatoes and molasses tonight?” Gregory gave his brother’s hand a squeeze.

 

_Wirt squeezed it back._

 

“Yeah bud, we can have potatoes and molasses tonight.”

 

\--

 

The drive home for the twins was held in silence, Dipper staring sadly out the window, Mabel watching him with concern. Dipper had come out of his last class of the day looking rather disheartened. He barely commented when Mabel showed him her gum that she had shaped to look like George Washington’s head. And when they walked to the parking lot where their parents were waiting to pick them up, he didn’t even pretend to listen to her ramblings.

 

“So how was your guy’s day?” Their mother asked from the drivers seat, her eyes flashing up to peer at them through the rearview mirror.

 

Mabel tried to speak for the both of them, animating her day in great detail. Her arms flailed around wildly as she tried to recreate the events. Her mom and dad chuckled at her bubbly speech and energetic spirit. When they noticed that Dipper wasn’t responding, they both looked at each other worriedly.

 

“Dipper? Sweetie? How was your day?” his mother asked, turning her attention to her son who was being awfully quiet, and even more so than usual. Usually when he wasn’t speaking, it was because he had his face in a book, but he would usually let slip an offhanded comment to whatever Mabel had said. But he wasn’t making any noise and there was no book in his hands today.

 

Dipper shrugged, never taking his eyes off the road. “It was alright,” he mumbled through the crook of his elbow. Mabel rested a hand on his back, rubbing softly in hopes it would cheer him up a little, but nothing she did seemed to bring his spirits up.

 

“Well what about band practice?” His dad said, piping in. “You love band practice. You’re in the advanced class right? You play with the high school children, right? And you have that one friend. The sophomore. What was his name? Wort? Walter?”

 

“It’s Wirt dear,” Mrs. Pines said, correcting him.

 

“Ah, yes! Wirt. I like that boy, he’s a nice kid. A little awkward, and not the most athletic, but he’s quite the gentlemen when he’s over. He always pulls the chair out for you Mabel, and he never makes a ruckus. I can’t believe he’s 16. I swear, the kid’s from some other time period.” Their father laughed. Mabel felt Dipper’s shoulders tense under her hand, and she knew that whatever was bothering him, it had something to do with the older boy. She was going to get to the bottom of this, whether he wanted her to or not.

 

“Say Mabel,” Their dad said, suddenly looking at his daughter. “Wirt’s only two years older than you, and with a boy like that, well...I mean, I’m not saying now, but, I'd rather see you with a boy who would treat you with respect like Wirt, then with some no good, guitar-strumming-the-first-chords-of-wonderwall punk. Have you thought about asking him out?”

 

The twins sputtered, and almost simultaneously shouted, “No!” Dipper’s protest louder than his sisters. The parents stared at the twins, specifically Dipper, cocking a brow in surprise, having not expected him to make a peep all the way home.

 

Mabel quickly explained, “Sorry dad, but no way would I ever want to date Wirt. I mean, yeah he’s a cutie...but he’s kind of boring. His idea of fun is listening to old records and writing poetry, and taking long walks while looking too long at the scenery. He’s a giant dorkus. It be like dating my brother. If anybody would be perfect for Wirt, it be Dipper here.” She poked Dipper in the cheek, making a soft farting noise with her tongue. Their mother burst out laughing, while Dipper and their dad’s face began to pinken in embarrassment and panic.

 

She wasn’t making a joke though, because she knew deep down how much the older boy affected her brother. Since they first met Wirt, last year in seventh grade, Dipper had grown to admire the boy. Whenever Wirt talked, Dipper would hang on to his every word, staring dreamily up at him like nothing else was as important than what the boy had to say. He laughed at all of Wirt’s jokes, even the ones that weren’t funny, or that Mabel didn’t understand (though Dipper probably got them). Even when Wirt wasn’t there, whenever his name was mentioned, Dipper would just perk up, and begin rambling about the boy and something he had noticed that anyone else would have missed.

 

_“Oh, Wirt. It was hilarious, he came to class wearing two different colored shoes. He didn’t even seem to notice!”_

 

_“Wirt? I saw him in the library today between study hall. He was checking out, ‘Chaser of the Light: Poems from the Typewrite series’ I’ll have to check it out sometime after he finishes it.”_

 

_“Wirt was so amazing in band practice today Mabel! You should have heard him. The way he played Moon River on the bassoon was so riveting.”_

 

_“Wirt did this today--”_

 

_“Oh, that reminds me of something Wirt did--”_

 

_“Oh Mabel, I need to tell you a joke Wirt told me--”_

 

_“Did you see what Wirt was wearing today?--”_

 

It was obvious her brother had fallen hard. And while she was super happy to see him so starstruck, and so much more energetic, she couldn’t help but worry that this would be another Wendy incident. Wirt was two years older than them, not to mention he was a Sophomore in highschool, while they were in the their last year of middle school. It would be a bit awkward, and they might get some backlash from other kids, especially Wirt, who, as she had seen, didn’t do well under pressure. He may back out as soon as they started, not wanting to be at the forefront of teasing and dirty looks. Or worse, he may just reject Dipper just like Wendy had. Yes her brother had seemed to accept it pretty quickly, but she wondered if he’d be able to handle it a second time.

 

“So then Dipper, did you have a good time at band practice with Wirt?” Their mother asked after coming down from her laughing fit. Dipper crossed his arms, dipping into his seat, his face hardening again.

 

“It was alright…” The words hung in the air, and the family knew he was in no mood to talk; that something had happened during practice. They all bite their lips, eyeing the young teen, who looked so depressed.

 

“Well, I know what might cheer you up. What if I make you your favorite dinner tonight?” Their mom said hopefully.

 

“And you can stay up til midnight tonight buddy, how’s that sound?” Their dad added. Their mother shot him a glare, and he quickly rephrased, “Um, I meant 11. You can stay up til 11.”

 

“No, it’s fine guys. You don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine. Really. I’m just tired…” Dipper tried to reassure them, but he didn’t look like someone who was merely tired. He turned back to the window, resting his hand on his cheek. He watched the houses of their neighborhood pass by, a soft sigh leaving his lips. The family once more exchanged worried glances.

 

Mabel really needed to get to the bottom of this. If her parents weren’t going to do it, it was all up to her.

 

\--

 

“What happened at band practice today Dipper?” Dipper looked up from the book he was(n’t) reading, his sister leaning in the doorway, arms crossed. He knew she wasn’t going to leave until he told her.

 

“Shut the door and I’ll tell you,” Dipper said, dogearring the page he was on. Mabel closed the door behind her, and moved to sit on the edge of his bed, looking at him expectantly. Dipper exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his cheek. “I think Wirt’s upset with me,” Dipper finally confessed.

 

“What? Wirt’s mad at you? How do you know? Are you sure he’s mad at you?” That didn’t sound like Wirt at all. They weren’t in the same class, and she saw less of Wirt than Dipper, but she was positive her brother couldn’t have done something in such a short amount of time to make Wirt upset at him.

 

“I’m pretty sure he was. He kept glaring at me during band practice. I felt like someone was burning holes into my head, and when I turned, Wirt’s head would suddenly whip around. It happened so many times, it couldn’t have been anyone else but him.” Dipper pulled his knees up, tucking them under his chin. He felt his eyes burning. “I didn’t do anything wrong though...at least I don’t think I did?” He sounded unsure.

 

“Well...what were you doing in band practice that could have made him glare at you?” Mabel asked, trying to help her brother piece the puzzle together.

 

“I wasn’t doing much. They were practicing a song, that didn’t require my part until near the end. So I was just talking to Jason Funderberker while we waited for our part to come up. Do you think he was mad cause I wasn’t giving my full attention to the class?”

 

“Maybe he was mad at you for talking to Jason Funderberker,” Mabel guessed, though she had meant it as more of a joke. But after a few seconds, they both began to actually take the idea seriously.

 

“You think he might have been mad at me talking to Funderberker? Why? I mean, he knows him, so I don’t get why he’d be mad at that.” Dipper couldn’t believe that that would be the reason. It just didn’t make sense...did it?

 

“Maybe he was jealous?” Mabel pondered aloud. Again, it was more of a ridiculous claim...until the two began to really think on it.

 

“Jealous? W-why would he be jealous? Jason Funderberker’s his friend...isn’t he? Jason said it himself that him and Wirt were friends, so I mean, why would me hanging out with him make him jealous? He’s only know me for a year, so he can’t be mad that we were talking. And I barely know Jason, it’s not like I’m going to suddenly stop talking to Wirt and just hang out with Jason. I mean, how could Wirt possibly be jealous of that?” He saw the worried look in his sister’s eyes and paused, the gears in his head slowly clicking into place. “No...I mean...you don’t think?”

 

“What if Wirt...likes Funderberker?” Mabel said it at last. She didn’t know the two well enough to see how they got on. She never really saw them hang out at all, but then, she only really saw Wirt in the halls of passing period, or when she went to pick up her brother from practice. Any other time they hung out, it was just the four of them: Mabel, Dipper, Wirt and Gregory. She really hoped that it was some mistake, and that the idea was too ridiculous to even conceive.

 

“Like...likes him?” Dipper felt his heart pick up in speed. There was this horrible twisting in his chest, and he clutched the place where his heart resided, the pain coming from that area. He thought back to a year ago, wondering if Wirt had shown any signs of liking the other boy. They sometimes chatted, and sometimes Dipper saw them walking in the same direction. Whenever Wirt talked about Jason, he seemed to almost want to change the subject, or became increasingly uncomfortable. Could it be he was uncomfortable...because he was embarrassed...oh god!

 

Mabel tried laughing it off, “I mean, I’m probably wrong. You know? I’m just spouting my silly ideas again. For all we know, maybe Wirt actually likes you, and is jealous of Funderberker.” She wanted to look on the bright side. She knew that her brother, however, did not look on the bright side of things, and was already starting to break down.

 

“No, It makes perfect sense.” Dipper cried, grabbing a fistful of his hair. His brain began to derail of rational thought and into mindless spewing. “He never talks about him, because he secretly likes him, and talking about him makes Wirt start acting nervously. He’s actually liked him for awhile, I mean, which is understandable when they’ve known each other for such a long time.”

 

He thought about the few months Sara and Wirt were together. They had been dating before Dipper met Wirt, which was at the beginning of the second semester of his 7th year and Wirt’s 9th. Dipper had decided his second semester, he’d let go of his insecurities and join the marching band, as well as take advanced band class. That’s where he met Wirt, the two almost instantly hitting it off. Band was also where he met Sara. He only saw them “together” for the one month that he had known Wirt, and then they had just...broken up one day. Without much warning.

 

Wirt confided in him one afternoon, as they were the last two members in the class, polishing their instruments, that they had broken up. When Dipper asked why, sure the two had been pretty happy, at least when he saw them together, Wirt replied that he didn’t feel the attraction he thought he had for her. And then for a second they just stayed silent, polishing their instruments as a thick tension hung in the air. After awhile, Dipper attempted to cheer him up by confiding in Wirt about his own failed summer relationship. It seemed to work, Wirt looking up to smile at the younger boy. And thus their friendship was truly solidified.

 

Dipper hadn’t thought about it before, but now he wondered if the reason they broke up was because of Jason Funderberker.

 

Maybe, Wirt just hadn’t realized it at the time, but maybe the reason he didn’t feel anything for Sara was because somewhere deep down it was Jason he wanted. Maybe after that semester, he began realizing his feelings for the other boy, and Dipper was now coming in and practically trampling all over Wirt’s hopes and dreams, all because of some miscommunication.

 

“And then I come in, this kid that’s only known them for a year, and Funderberker even less than that, and he probably thinks I’m getting in the way. I’m probably ruining Wirt’s chances of telling Funderberker how he feels. What if he thinks I like Funderberker, and that’s why he’s mad at me. He probably feels so betrayed. Like I just marched in and took him from him. Oh my gosh I’m a homewrecker!”

 

“Dipper! What? Calm down! I don’t think you’re a homewrecker. I'm not sure you even know what that really means. I do think you’re overreacting though. It’s probably not that at all. Heck, you could have been imagining that Wirt was angry at you.”

 

“No, I swear Mabel that he was. He kept glaring at us, at me. I was talking with Jason Funderberker, and laughing, and-- oh jeez. It must have been so painful for Wirt to watch. Watching the person he likes, laughing and talking with someone else, someone who’s probably getting in the way of his true happiness. I know I would be upset if I saw someone I really liked, laughing and being happy with someone else.”

 

“You mean like if someone was talking to Wirt?”

 

“Wha?”

 

“Dipper, if you saw someone talking with Wirt and making him laugh, you would be totally jealous!” Mabel threw her arms up in the air, exasperated. She didn’t know why her brother tried playing dumb with her, she always knew the truth.

 

“T-thats not...I mean--”

 

“You like Wirt, and you’re freaking out because you think he likes Jason Funderberker, and you don’t want to get in his way, but at the same time you feel completely heartbroken. And now you’re over analyzing everything again, because you don’t have all the pieces you need. You need to chillax bro, and stop over thinking everything. You don’t know why Wirt was upset. You don’t know that he likes Jason Funderberker. You just have these little snippets of information that you’re trying to knit into a quilt--”

 

“--a quilt?” Dipper raised a brow. He opened his mouth to ask her what she was talking about, but she slapped her hand against his mouth, silencing him.

 

“--Don’t interrupt me Dipper. It’s a metaphor. Listen, if you try to sew a quilt with snippets, you’re not going to get a good quilt--”

 

“I thought that’s how quilts were made? By using mis-matches of patterns?” She slapped her hand across his mouth again, harder this time.

 

“Not the point! The point is….the _Point_ is...You’re acting dumb and you need to just talk to Wirt and ask him why he was upset yesterday, instead of trying to Sherlock Holmes your way through it.” Mabel said, jumping off the bed. “Now, I’m going to get ready for bed. And I want you to do the same...and stop obsessing over this…”

 

Her expression softened. _“I don’t want you breaking your own heart,”_ she muttered under her breath, turning and heading for the door. “Everything’s going to be fine Dipper. Just talk to Wirt tomorrow and all this will be sorted out, alright?” She twisted the doorknob, opening his bedroom door. “Goodnight Dipper,” she said as her final parting words for the evening.

 

“...Goodnight Mabel” Dipper said, hearing the door shut, indicating he was alone again. With his sister finally gone, he tucked his head into his chest. His body shook and, with eyes burning with unshed tears, he stayed in fetal position for many hours until exhaustion finally claimed him around 1am.

 

_Jason Funderberker..._

 

\--

 

“Hey Dipper, are you coming over tonight?” Wirt asked, as they were packing up from Band Practice.

 

“Huh? You still want me to come over?” Dipper asked offhandedly, distracted as he packed away his Sousaphone.

 

“What? Of course I still want you to come over? Why would you think I didn’t want you to come over?” Wirt stopped packing, turning to face Dipper. Dipper stopped packing too, realizing he had spoken out loud.

 

“Oh no, it’s nothing...I just thought that you-- It was nothing-- I just--” sweating bullets, he tried to come up with a plausible excuse. “Wereyoumadatmeyesterday?” he ended up blurting out.

 

_Smooth, Pines._

 

Wirt’s lips quivered into an uncertain smile. He looked like he wanted to laugh, but was also very lost. “Mad at you? I wasn’t mad at you yesterday. What ever would make you think I was mad at you?” He pulled down the top of his Bassoon case, locking it up.

 

“Yesterday...I--Mabel said I was overreacting and I’m sure I was...but I could swear you were glaring at me the entire time.” Wirt froze, his lips tightening. He could feel perspiration forming above his brow. He didn’t think Dipper had noticed, but he should have known better. _He felt like a mouse trapped in the corner, the large, feral cat, clawing ever so slowly towards him, lips smacking, stomach gurgling, intent in it’s pursuit to feast upon his--_

 

Wirt pushed his lyrical metaphor to the far corners of his mind, focusing on what was currently happening, and not on some whimsical interpretation. “Oh, that.”

 

“Yeah...that. W-were you upset at me?” Dipper twisted the strap of his satchel in anticipation, waiting to see what Wirt would say next.

 

“No, no!” Wirt waved his arms in front of him, trying to banish the idea from Dipper’s mind. If only he could physically erase the idea, as well as the memory entirely, so Dipper would be once more shielded in a cloud of ignorance. He knew that there was no way to get out of this, without telling the truth. He had no other choice. Running away wasn’t an option, and in all honesty, running away had never helped him before, only getting him further into trouble. He decided he was just going to stand up and admit his feelings. Even if Dipper didn’t want to hear it, even if it might ruin their friendship forever, Wirt was ready to accept it. No matter what happened, Wirt steeled himself for the result.

 

“The truth is I--”

 

“Hehe, there you are Dipper. I’ve been looking for you.”

 

_NO!_

 

That nasally voice. There’s was only one person who possessed such a shrill, nails-on-chalkboard speech. Wirt’s fingers clenched unconsciously, as he slowly turned towards the door, Jason Funderberker standing in the entryway, smiling innocently, unaware he had interrupted something very important. Not even caring that there was another person in the room, and that they had been talking moments ago, not wanting to be disturbed, Funderberker strolled into the room like he owned the place.

 

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

 

“Me?” Dipper seemed puzzled, and Wirt was glad that Dipper was just as confused as he was. What did Jason Funderberker need with Dipper anyway?

 

“Yeah, you promised me you meet me by my locker after band practice. I waited and waited, but when you didn’t show up, I came back here to see if you were still inside. I didn’t know you would be talking to Wirt.”

 

Wirt felt that was the perfect time to chime in, seeing as his name had been mentioned. “Excuse me, hate to interrupt--” _A huge lie_ “But um, why were you waiting for Dipper exactly?”

 

“He promised to help me after school with my Sousaphone practice.” Funderberker replied back, like the answer was obvious. Apparently not to Wirt or Dipper.

 

“He promised what--?”

 

“I promised what--?”

 

Funderberker turned on Dipper, his mouth half-opened, that horrid ear grating laughter leaving his lips. “Oh Dipper, you’re so funny. Don’t you remember yesterday when we were talking in class. I asked if you would help me practice after school, and you said ‘Sure Jason, whatever’.”

 

Dipper racked his mind for that specific memory. He remembers Jason mumbling something that Dipper had half heartedly acknowledged, as he had been focused on Wirt who he caught for the fourth time staring at them. Oh Crap! Dipper slapped his hand against his forehead, hissing in recognition. That must have been what Jason had asked, and stupidly, without even paying attention, he agreed to it.

 

“Jason listen. I completely forgot I had made plans today. We’ll have to do it some other time.”

 

But Jason Funderberker seemed unwilling to accept this. “But the football game is next Friday, and I don’t know the right chords to play. I’m going to be the only one sounding offkey during the game, and then Miss. Audrey’s going to chew me out. I really need to get this down. Please help me.” He got down on his knees, hands clasped together. He was actually begging. Wirt was so done!

 

Dipper, looking extremely uncomfortable, yanked at his collar, “I’m sorry Jason, but I’ve already made these promises a week in advance and I can’t just--”

 

“You should go!” Wirt couldn’t believe the words had left his mouth. There was no way that was his voice speaking. But the widened expression of shock on Dipper’s face, and the relieved expression on Funderberker’s face was confirmation that he indeed, had said it.

 

“Wirt, but we made plans!” Dipper attempted, seeming more panicked than before, like it was vital that Dipper not go with Funderberker. But Wirt wasn’t aware of this, and all he could see was red. He needed to leave, before he snapped and started beating Funderberker with his bassoon case.

 

“No, it’s cool Dipper. We can always reschedule,” Wirt stated, left eye twitching, his breathing heavy. “Besides, we got to be ready for the football game next week; can’t have Funderberker messing it all up!” Wirt threw his hands up in the air, smiling unnaturally wide. He was looking more and more like a rabid animal, and inside, he was starting to feel like one too.

 

“Wirt…”

 

Calming down slightly, just enough to not look absolutely insane, he bent down and picked up his bag and case. His breathing evened out, but his eyes felt unnaturally cold to the younger male. “I got to go pick up my brother. I’ll call you tomorrow Dipper.” And without waiting, he turned on his heel and stormed out the classroom, ignoring Dipper calling out his name.

 

Wirt didn’t stop, storming down the hall, ignoring all the greetings he received as he passed. He just wanted to get Greg, and go home, lock himself in his room and wallow in misery.

 

He needed to vent.

 

\--

 

In the safety of his room, Wirt lay on his bed, crumpled papers scattered all around him. There were more overflowing in the trash can across from him. He had spent hours writing, trying to express his feeling through his pen. He hoped that putting his anger to paper, the words would absorb his frustrations and Wirt would feel at peace again. But nothing he wrote was good enough. Nothing he wrote could describe his feeling. There were no words to describe the anger in his soul. He had no way to get it out, no outlet, so the feelings stayed festered inside him, weighing down on his chest like a large boulder. He threw his arm over his eyes, shrouding himself in darkness. With no pen, he tried to write the words in the darkest part of his mind.

 

_“Oh the heart is a fickle thing to possess,_

_No matter how much it yearns for the attention,_

_The heart can only be given away,_

_It can never be taken._

 

_Oh the heart is a complexity,_

_It pumps nutrients through the bloodstream,_

_An invention that keeps you alive,_

_Is the device that kills you in the end._

 

_Oh the heart is a bleeding mess,_

_It can take the brute of any excursion,_

_And withstand obstacles ten times it capabilities,_

_But yet crumbles at the thought of loss._

 

_Oh the heart is a palace,_

_The ribcages guard it with their lives_

_and it stays nestled in a wall of muscle and skin,_

_But oh is it Gullible._

 

_Oh the heart is Sickening,_

_How I wish I could reach inside,_

_Rip it from my open chest,_

_And toss it into the ocean._

 

_Oh the Heart is vexatious._

_A bleeding mess,_

_Of gullibility,_

_That can be easily thrown away._

 

_I could beg, and plead, and grovel for a key,_

_To lock my heart away,_

_So it may never love again,_

_So it may never bleed openly._

 

_Oh the heart…_

_Is such a fickle thing to possess._

_I cannot chose who’s heart to take,_

_I can only give mine away._

 

_In the end,_

_My heart was not meant to be received,_

_But merely tossed aside,_

_For something, someone, of greater value._

 

_Oh my beating heart be still,_

_Stop you’re insatiable pumping,_

_And allow yourself to freeze over,_

_So I may not wake up when the morning rises._

 

_Oh be still my bleeding heart,_

_Stop your agonizing plea,_

_Give up and abandon,_

_This broken shell of a man._

 

_Allow me no more suffering._

_Give me salvation,_

_From your wicked,_

_Cruelty._

 

_Oh be still my heart,_

_I can no longer stand your beating,_

_Knowing that it is you,_

_That keeps me breathing._

 

_Oh my fickle heart,_

_Why must I always give,_

_And never take,_

_Why must love be so unforgiving?_

 

_Oh my fickle heart,_

_Lay me to rest,_

_Under a clear night sky,_

_nd the needles of the pine tree._

 

_Oh my fickle heart,_

_If I must die,_

_I want to go,_

_Staring at the one who shall never love me.”_

 

“....”

 

 **“FUCK!”** Tears trekked down Wirt’s cheeks as the feelings came rushing out all at once. He grabbed his poetry book and threw it as hard as he could against the wall. But the dull thunk didn’t take away the pain; it only made it worse. “Fuck!” He shouted, picking up his alarm clock from his night stand, throwing it into the wall. It shattered, but it didn’t quell the storm in Wirt’s stomach. It only made it worse. “Shit!” He grabbed more things from his nightstand, throwing them at the wall. The things shattered, or the wall earned a deeper dent, but no matter the damage, the pain in his heart only grew.

 

“Goddammit!!!” He screamed into his hands, unable to stop the overflowing tears. He scrapped at his face, cutting his cheeks with unclipped nails, leaving angry red streaks in their wake. But the pain in his face wasn’t strong enough to take the pain away from his heart, so he went for more pain. He reached up, grabbing at his hair, ripping out small pieces of it, but the stinging of his head wasn’t able to distract the aching in his heart, or the unbridling tears. He pulled and tugged, cursed and howled, but the pain in his heart didn’t stop.

 

Finally, having used up the last of his strength, he tipped his head back, opened his mouth impossibly wide, and let out a broken scream.

 

“Wirt! Wirt!” The door flew open and Gregory raced for the bed. He scrambled up on top of it, looking up in distress when he saw his brother. “Wirt!” Greg yelled, shaking his brother, who was unresponsive, continuing to let out that shrill wail that sounded too twisted and mangled to be Greg’s older brother. “Wirt! Stop!” Gregory begged, shaking his brother furiously, wanting to calm him down. But it seemed nothing he was doing was helping, and Gregory felt his bottom lip quiver as he watched his brother breaking down in front of him, unable to help. Not knowing what else to do or how to help Wirt, he did the only thing he could think left to do.

 

He threw himself at Wirt’s midriff, wrapping his tiny arms around Wirt as far as they would let him reach and squeezed with all his might. He poured all his worries and love into his embrace, hoping they would reach his brother. “It’s okay Wirt, You don’t have to be sad anymore! I’m here for you! It’s okay now.” He consoled.

 

And that was all it took. Wirt slowly lifted shaky arms, resting one hand in Greg’s hair, the other resting on his back. He moved his hands through Greg’s hair and over his back, checking to make sure the boy was really there. His voice grew small, until he made no noise at all. Closing his mouth, he peered down, still surprised to find Gregory there, looking sadly up at him. “...Greg?” he rasped. At hearing his name Greg’s lips curved up into a relieved smile, and he buried his face in Wirt’s stomach, giving his brother another tight squeeze. Tears still streaming down his eyes, Wirt’s mouth quavered, and with the pain still in his chest, but now a new feeling of love and warmth for his brother, he lifted the small boy in his arms and coddled him close to his chest, nuzzling his face into the boy’s hair.

 

“Don’t cry anymore Wirt. It’s okay.” Gregory said, wiping at Wirt’s cheeks, ridding him of his tears. Wirt snorted softly, not sure if he wanted to cry harder or laugh.

 

“I’m alright now Gregory. I’m okay.” he promised.

 

“When I use to have bad dreams, or I was sad, mom and dad would let me stay the night in their room. Do you want me to stay here with you tonight?” Greg asked, placing his hands on either side of Wirt’s face, squishing his cheeks softly. The action made him giggle, and in turn, Wirt felt himself smile, before he too burst out laughing.

 

When the laughs had subsided, and Wirt felt his tears slowly dry up, he pressed a kiss to his brother’s cheek and held him close again. “I would like that very much.”

 

“And Jason Funderburker can stay too?” At the mention of his name, the frog jumped on the bed croaking loudly. Any other time, the name would have sent him back into a shaking mess, but this time, Wirt felt himself laughing harder than ever, deep in his chest.

 

“Yes Jason Funderburker can stay too...I love you Greg.” Wirt said, wondering how he could have ever thought his brother was a hindrance on him before. He was a foolish, naive, and selfish young man then. And even though they almost drowned, Wirt was glad that they had gotten lost on the other side of the garden wall.

 

Because he would have never realized how much his brother meant to him.

 

“I love you too Wirt.” Greg said, reaching into his overalls, where he pulled out a tiny rock with a crudely drawn face on it in crayon. “And that’s a rock fact!”

 

\--

 

The door slammed shut. Mabel looked up from the magazine she was reading, and flipped over on the couch. “Hey bro bro, what are you doing home? I thought you were spending the night at Wi-” she didn’t get to finish her sentence, as her brother threw all his stuff on the floor, and bolted up the stairs. “Dipper!!!” Mabel leaped up, rushing after him. She heard the door to his room slam shut as she was ascending the stairs, and seconds later, she was bursting through his door, finding him lying face down in his pillow, his body convulsing. “Dipper what’s the matter?” Once more she found herself sitting on the edge of his bed, wondering what was wrong. Did he talk to Wirt? She needed to know what happened.

 

“I was right Mabel! I was right!” Dipper lifted his head, tears of frustration already sliding down his cheeks. He furiously wiped at them, digging his knuckles against his closed lids. “I messed up and Wirt hates me now!”

 

“Dipper what are you talking about?”

 

“Jason Funderberker Mabel! I was right about Wirt liking Jason Funderberker. Today we were suppose to go to his house, but I also accidentally promised Jason I help him practice. And...you should have seen the look of his face Mabel. He was so angry at me. I never saw him look so mad. And it was all my fault.” Dipper cried out, his head falling into his hands as he sobbed.

 

“Maybe he was upset you planned something, when you had already promised to hang out with him?” Mabel tsked, hands on her hips. She wouldn’t put it past her brother to make a mistake like that, and if that were the case, she could understand why Wirt would be upset with him. But Dipper shook his head.

 

“No, I even told Jason Funderberker I couldn’t, but Wirt insisted I go with him. He said something about not letting the marching band down, but you could see how beat up inside he was. It was obvious he didn’t want me going with Jason Funderberker. I ruined everything. He’ll probably never want to speak to me again.”

 

“Dipper--”

 

“I don’t want him to never speak to me again.” Dipper weeped. Mabel, knowing her brother was in distress, gently pulled him to her chest, running her fingers through his messy curls, shushing him gently.

 

“It’s alright Dipper. I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding. You two will be talking again in no time.” Deep down, her heart ached. Losing someone she loved was painful enough, but Dipper losing someone he loved…

 

She shushed him again, gently rocking him back and forth as she promised that Monday would be a better day.

 

\--

 

But Monday rolled around and things didn’t seem to look any better. In fact, for the entire week, the two boys didn’t speak to each other. They didn’t even look at each other. Wirt kept his head to the front during band practice so he wouldn’t have to see Dipper talking with Funderberker. And Dipper kept his eyes on his shoes, to keep Funderberker from talking to him so that he didn’t hurt Wirt anymore than he already had.

 

Even though they didn’t talk or look at each other, they knew the other wasn’t looking too great, but both of them assumed it was for a different reason than it actually was.

 

So all week the two spent avoiding each other, and Wirt spent more time playing and talking with Greg, while Dipper spent more time ignoring, and side stepping his sister’s question. It was only after the football game that the two had no choice but to talk.

 

“Hey Wirt, that was great! We sounded awesome, and our team won. A few of us are going to celebrate with pizza, you want to come?” Sara asked, smiling as she pointed to the small group, which included her, a few other band member, Dipper and Mabel…

 

...And Jason Funderberker.

 

Wirt tried to politely decline. “Sorry Sara. I don’t think I can tonight. It’s getting late, and I got to take Greg home,” he said, pointing to the young boy who was rubbing his eyes sleepily. “Maybe next time!”

 

“But I want pizza,” Greg yawned.

 

“No Greg, it’s already almost 9. We need to get you home.” Of course, it was a Friday night, and Greg could stay out later, so long as Wirt was watching him. But, knowing that Jason Funderberker was going to be there, probably buddying it up with Dipper, Wirt was not going to put himself through that heartache.

 

“Awww, are you sure? You should come Wirt,” Mabel whined, giving him her best puppydog pout in hopes he’d cave, and join them. Wirt looked at her, then his eyes shifted to Dipper. Dipper was staring back at him with a longing look in his eyes. But, that couldn’t be right? Why would Dipper look at him longingly like that?

 

Then again, Wirt admitted, he missed talking to his friend. And...even if Jason Funderberker was ruining his life, he didn’t want to lose Dipper over it, even if the boy didn’t return his feelings. Dipper smiled hopefully at him, and Wirt returned it back.

 

He opened his mouth, ready to agree.

 

And then Jason Funderberker came strolling up, slinging an arm over Dipper’s shoulder in the process. And the smile disappeared.

 

“Yeah Wirt, you should join us. You really shined out there. I could hear your bassoon from the back and I think you did great.” He nasally squeaked, his voice having no ounce of sarcasm in it. But god, did he still want to smack the man in his face.

 

 _“Don’t tell me I did great, I know I did great,”_ He muffled into the collar of his band jacket, glaring at the ground. He looked back up, feigning a smile and once more politely declined their invitation. “I’m really sorry guys, but I’m just going to head home. You guys have fun without me.”

 

The group awed sadly, and reluctantly began heading to the parking lot to hop in Sara’s van, Dipper only leaving because Funderberker still had an arm over his shoulder and was leading him away. Sara was the only one who remained. She knew something had been on his mind all week, and she had hoped coming to celebrate would cheer him up. But it seemed not to be the case. “If you change your mind, meet us at the pizzeria.” Then she reluctantly turned, giving him one more look over her shoulder, before heading for the parking lot.

 

Wirt and Greg stood alone on the football field, everyone else having gone home. A lone light shined on them. “Come on Greg, lets go. We’re going to miss the bus.”

 

\--

 

The ride home on the bus was held in silence, Wirt sitting horizontal the seat, with Greg sitting between his legs. Wirt stared straight ahead at the empty seat next to him, Greg staring up at his brother’s somber expression. The bus was awfully quiet, with only two other people on it besides them.

 

“Wirt?”

 

“Hmmm?”

 

“How come you didn’t go?” Greg asked.

 

“Just didn’t feel like going...”

 

“Why are you scared, Wirt?”

 

“Wha?” Wirt looked down, his eyes widening.

 

“You’ve faced things ten times scarier than this. And even when you faced the most scariest of the scary, you weren’t once scared.”

 

Wirt didn’t respond, so Greg continued. “If you can stand up to The Beast and not be scared, then you can stand up to Jason Funderberker too.”

 

“Greg I--”

 

“When you cried...I felt sad. Because you don’t deserve to be sad. You’re a good person Wirt, so you deserve to be happy. And I want you to be happy.” Greg said as he played with the buttons of his overall. “I know you don’t want to talk about it...but if Dipper is your special someone...then you shouldn’t be scared. Because I think he likes you too. When he looked at you today, he looked so sad...and whenever Dipper comes over, I never see him look so sad. He always looks so happy when he sees you. So that must mean he likes you too, doesn’t it?” Greg stopped fiddling with his buttons and looked back at Wirt with a knowing shine in his eyes. Wirt stared down at his brother, and he was sure, that his brother may be wiser and more mature then he could have ever hoped to be at that age.

 

Wirt leaped up, pulling on the little yellow wire to let the driver know he wanted to get off. The bus pulled up into next station and Wirt headed for the front door, before stopping. He turned towards Greg, “You’re going to be alright getting home, right?” he asked.

 

Greg gave him a thumbs up, “Don’t worry ol Brother of mine, I know where our house is.”

 

Nodding, Wirt continued on his way. Halfway down the stairs, he paused again. _Wait a minute, what am I doing?_ He flipped back around and began marching back into the bus, ignoring the irritated driver’s bark that he either stay on or get off. He walked back to the seat where Greg was, picking him up and putting him under his arm. “You’re coming too!” he stated, taking the steps two at a time. He began running back towards the direction of the local pizzareia.

 

“Whooo! Pizza!” Greg pumped his arms in the air victoriously, though with the way Wirt was holding him, his arms stuck out horizontally.

 

\--

 

Inside the pizzareia, Wirt gently placed Greg down, reaching into his pockets to drop a few spare coins into his hand. “You go play some games, alright?” Greg beamed happily, skipping off to the arcade games. Wirt in the meantime, scanned the crowd, until he found his friends in the far back booth. His eyes locked onto Dipper who was chatting with his sister. And next to him was once again, Jason Funderberker with arm slung over the boy like Dipper belonged to him. Wirt snorted, rolling up his sleeves as he made a beeline for the table.

 

His face grew red with each step, but he didn’t let his embarrassment stop him from what he was going to do next. He stopped right in front of their table, the group quieting their discussions to gaze at him.

 

“Wirt, I thought you said you were tired?” Sara said, surprised to see him here, but not the least bit displeased. But Wirt didn’t answer her, his eyes locked onto Dipper’s, who was looking up at him with that longing look from before, as well as a smidgen of worry.

 

“Wirt? ...you okay?” Dipper asked. Wirt inhaled deeply, his chest expanding and he looked like he might start shouting. Dipper prepared himself for the entourage of verbal abuse.

 

What he didn’t prepare for was for Wirt to lean over the table, grab a fistful of Dipper’s shirt, and tug the boy up into standing position, smashing his lips on the other. The whole table gasped, though Mabel let out more of a breathless squeal.

 

When they pulled apart, they were breathless, and they could swear there were stars shining in the other’s eyes. “I...don’t...want...to...lose...you...to...Jason Funderberker”

 

“M-me?” Jason Funderberker leaned forward, pointing at himself.

 

“Shut up Funderberker!” Wirt snapped, not even looking at the other, his entire attention solely of the blushing brunette in front of him. Taking a few seconds to compose himself, he gathered all the courage he possessed to ask Dipper the thing he had been meaning to for a long time now. “Will you go out with me Dipper Pines?”

 

Dipper didn’t even miss a beat, “Yes.”

 

Smiling, Wirt released the tight hold on Dipper’s collar and took a few steps back. He lifted his arms into the air and let out a loud whoop of triumph.

 

...and then all the color drained from his face and he went crashing backwards.

 

“Wirt, Oh my god!”

 

“Is he alright?”

 

“I think he passed out”

 

“Somebody pour a pitcher of water on his head!”

 

“Wirt, Wirt!”

 

\--

 

A little bit of time after, Wirt found himself sitting in the booth with the rest of the group, Mabel and Dipper having switched seats so the two could be next to each other. The group chatted and laughed, and everything felt warm and right in the world. Gregory sat on the far end, holding the stuffed plush elephant he had won, asking why Wirt was sopping wet. Mabel kept giving her brother ‘I told you so’ looks but neither boy was paying attention to their siblings. They were too busy, talking and laughing about the past week and how they both had suspected the other of liking Jason Funderberker, shamelessly holding the other’s hands above the table.

 

And thus, the tale of the adventurer and the pilgrim admitting their love to one another came to a close. But with it, a new story opened up for them; a fresh page for the two to write their adventures in.

 

...As they would have many more adventures to come.

**Author's Note:**

> Greg is best little brother. I love writing Greg so much, and I can’t wait for him to write him more. I have so many ideas for this little one. Also Wirt rememberd him this time. I call that character progress.
> 
>  
> 
> That poem “Oh the Heart is…” was written by me. I haven’t written poetry in awhile, so I’m sorry if it doesn’t measure up to something that Wirt would say, but I will continue to write poetry and improve so that when I write him speaking poetry, it will sound more like him. But also, I’m actually very proud of that poem.
> 
>  
> 
> Also I have this headcanon that Wirt only curses under extreme pain or frustration. I just don’t see the boy having much of a potty mouth. So this is one of the few times I will write him cursing. Cause despite his unlimited knowledge of the english language, sometimes the best words to convey pain and anger is a simple “FUCK YOU”
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway, tell me what you guys think. I’d love to hear your honest opinion. Expect to see more Pinescone from me in the near future.
> 
>  
> 
> EAT YOUR DIRT!


End file.
